


Abstract

by SketchyNebula



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Dissociation, Kinda, Morally Neutral Deceit Sanders, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Warning: Deceit Sanders, might make another chapter i dont know yet, poetry kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 15:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16956312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchyNebula/pseuds/SketchyNebula
Summary: The dark seemed to seep into him, making each limb and corner of his mind nonexistent, part of some big mass of darkness and nothing. It was surreal and he had dreams where he was back there, fading into abstraction.





	Abstract

Virgil would never forget how it felt.

The dark seemed to seep into him, making each limb and corner of his mind nonexistent, part of some big mass of darkness and nothing. It was surreal and he had dreams where he was back there, fading into abstraction.

The sounds of Roman’s angry voice far away, somewhere almost forgettable, along with Logan’s looks of distaste and Patton’s unsure, fearful gaze. 

There wasn’t really an kind of way that a side can ‘die’, but if Virgil was to make a comparison or at least a guess at what death would feel like. He would assume it felt like this.

The feeling was incomprehensible but all the same natural. Like that’s how it always was. Like there was never a time where he was him. This space where it felt like none of this had ever existed at all. 

This was all fine and good; however, this wasn’t what Virgil thought of each time he thought back on his brief time here. 

Teenage years are crazy for everyone, even Thomas to some extent, though Virgil would know that better than the others. 

They were young, they were all young, he held that against none of them. Not then, not now.

They had been just old enough to know their purpose, just new enough to not know how to fulfill that purpose, Virgil more than the others.

How was one supposed to protect without smothering. It was his job to keep them alive and how was he supposed to do that with all the dangers.

He couldn’t foresee everything.

He remembers the days that he would spend curled up in a ball in his room. His eyes glazed over as the oppressive nature of it sunk into his flesh. The dark walls covered in shadows and pulling at the very edges of his frayed mind. It carved into him, heightening his stress with every whispery, breathy whisper of, “Thomas is going to fail a test” or, “Thomas is going to go out to a party, and get himself killed,” or even the occasional, “You’re useless to the others, you don’t do anything but create issues they have to solve.”

It wasn’t as if the nature of his room was lost on him, but when all the others hated him, what was he supposed to do, where was he supposed to go? 

The nature of his room was to heighten his very being but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing when it came to being who he was. 

The others were too young, of course he forgives them from everything back then. Everything seemed like life and death, he would be the first to agree on that sentiment. Whether or not they understood what their actions meant is irrelevant because they are all different people now.

They are all different people now but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.   
That doesn’t mean that every day he spent sequestered away after each of the others had looked him in the eye and said, “We don’t want you here.”

After Roman had thrown the first stone, telling him that he was hindering Thomas, Logan following shortly after with Patton being on the fence.

On the fence but scared. 

Scared of him.

He went to abstraction, not for long, never for long. He needed space he needed air, or he supposed as a being of imaginary origin that wasn’t exactly the most accurate verbiage but it was close enough in concept. He never stayed long enough, he was too cautious to risk it, but he still felt it. 

He felt every inch of numbness, of nothing and everything. Of fading into a mass that didn’t belong to him. 

Or maybe it did. 

Maybe the mass was everything and everyone, at least in the mindscape.   
Virgil felt the nothingness wrap around him, he flirted with his own end before pulling away, touching the edges of oblivion like it was an old friend.   
Or maybe an impossible desire. 

He never expected to see anyone else there, he never meant to meet someone. 

The first time he saw him, nothing was exchanged. There was barely two seconds into walking further into the area of abstraction that Virgil had seen him out of the corner of his eye and bolted. 

Essentially running out of the area. 

He had stayed in his room that night. Rolling in the sheets as his room did it’s part in trying to keep him awake for the entirety of the night with different concerns. A few of which he got up, of course he got up, to go make Thomas aware about. 

To go bother Thomas and make him anxious until he dealt with it and Virgil was finally down one concern, one loud voice. 

He always dealt with the loudest ones first.

The second time it was the other who had walked in on Virgil. 

Virgil’s head was tipped back, numbly enjoying nothing. Sitting with the idea of staying forever. The idea of leaving with the mass of nothingness.

“Well, you seem to be having an awful time.” Someone said and Virgil turned, seeing the same flash of yellow he had seen all those days ago. 

“Y-your the one I saw last time,” Virgil said and the other smirked,

“Defiantly not.” He stated, and Virgil tilted his head in confusion, his mouth opening slightly.

“and I’m definitely not deceit.” He said, sticking his hand out and everything clicked, Virgil letting out a quiet, “ohhh,” as he shook the others hand.

“Anxiety,” he stated his trait like it was his name, the same way deceit had.   
He liked how safe it felt, the idea something that he might keep with him if the others ever get curious enough to ask his name. Not that he thought they ever would. 

There was never a point to thinking that there would be a time when anything would be different. Virgil stayed with the idea of now as a constant, it was easier that way.

“What are you doing in abstraction,” Virgil asked and deceit thought for a moment before shrugging, 

“I totally don’t like how it feels.” Virgil nodded at him, he understood that much at least. Who needs individuality or pain. Who needs conscious thought when you can be an abstract concept that can’t interact with Thomas or any of the others. 

“I get you there,” He stated, and deceit hummed, 

“You look like you’re elated to be alive.” Deceit said and Virgil laughed,  
“Well, you got me there deceit.” he said, voice falling away at the end as he looked into the void before him. 

“What about you? You as elated as me to be alive?”

Deceit didn’t answer, staring out among the darkness, and Virgil nodded. 

There was somethings that you just didn’t need to talk about. 

“Can you tell the truth or are you forced by your very existence to lie?” Virgil asked and Deceit glanced at him out of the corner of his eye before letting a smirk prop up on his face.

“Oh I definitely can’t tell the truth.” Deceit said, and Virgil spent the rest of the time there contemplating the paradox of the sentence he just said. 

Virgil’s eyes looked out among the nothing. His body fading in colour, turning slightly translucent in a way that told him his time in abstraction was up. He left before Deceit, the other seeming to last in abstraction for longer than Virgil.   
Probably because the concept of Anxiety was a lot more abstract than the physical act of lying.

Deceit was there the next time too. 

Virgil asked him if he lived here only to get a nod of the head that Virgil assumed to actually mean 'no’. 

The third time they didn’t speak just staring at the almost cosmic grip that they were being pulled away in. 

Virgil wondered why Deceit was here. He wasn’t a side that the others knew about, at least Virgil had asked about any other sides briefly and been turned away, though if that was because of their current opinions toward him or any kind of lack of knowledge on their part he wouldn’t be able to tell you. 

It was on this particular day when Virgil had, apparently, ‘went way too far.’  

Roman of course was the root of all issues in Virgil’s life. 

Well the root of all issues in his life actually, he supposes, started with his life, but we’ll get to that in a minute. 

“You can’t even let Thomas have a good time!” Roman had shouted, Virgil having shown up in the middle of a party to make Thomas’s stomach drop and his smile become tight. 

Virgil didn’t say anything back, the other was going to yell, going to shout at him and, honestly?, why not.

but then it happened. 

Roman’s yelling agitated Virgil, it normally always did, but the yelling was for some reason suffocating. Virgil had sunk out.

His throat constricting and for a moment he thought that this was how he was going to die.

Before any of them knew what was happening Thomas was hyperventilating, his chest tight. All of them were panicking and Virgil was, stirring in his room, all of the voices and the doubts rising to yell out at him, going from whispers to screams as they took up all the space that he had once called his. 

The next day Patton looked at him with disappointment.

“You really hurt Thomas,” He would say.

Because of course it was his fault.

And Virgil would pinch his lips together, the idea of saying something, defending himself rose up in this mind, but he didn’t, he couldn’t. The screams and crying he would shout internally would be lost on his lips as he let the silence stretch on, waiting for Patton to say anything else before leaving as soon as he could. 

This would be a day where reaching out to nothingness just a little further, staying just a little bit longer had seemed like the most amazing solution to his biggest issue.

The issue with being alive. 

The issue with having to feel love and hate and pain every time you woke up from oblivion, from unconsciousness, from sleep. 

but even sleep to some degree had consciousness. There was always a little bit of feeling there.

Virgil wondered just how much different oblivion would be to sleep.

He would stay in abstraction for an entire night. Letting the force threaten to consume him the way it consumed everything else that fell in here. 

When deceit showed up he sat down quietly, and Virgil was glad that he could at least tell that Virgil didn’t want to speak at the moment.

The time passed, Virgil sitting there for way longer than he should have, and the other wasn’t worried.

That had to be the thing Virgil liked about him the most. 

There was no agitation, no worry. Though whether that was just another one of his lies Virgil would never know. 

But for now, for right now, here, where nothing and everything collided so perfectly. Virgil thought he could allow for a calming lie to numb his brain into believing everything was alright for a second. 

The idea that if Deceit wasn’t panicking that he couldn’t be doing too much damage. 

Deceit would meet his eyes then, as soon as he looked up at him and he would speak lowly, his face neutral and expressionless as he made eye contact with Virgil, searching in his eyes for something.

“One. One thing. I will tell you one thing honestly.” Deceit said and Virgil nodded, they both knew what he was going to ask. 

“What would happen if I stayed here?” Virgil asked and Deceit opened his mouth, the answer already waiting there. 

“Nothing. They wouldn’t care. Not yet at least." 

"Does that mean that they, eventually, will care?” Virgil asked, 

Deceit smirked,

“One day, they will.”

Virgil spent the next ten years wondering if that last sentence was a lie or not.


End file.
